


The Missing Piece

by Doccutroll



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doccutroll/pseuds/Doccutroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren Lewis has a puzzle she cannot solve. The pieces consist of unspoken words, baleful gazes, and quiet sighs from Bo. Post season four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and reviews are most welcome.

Lauren Lewis, MD, PhD, scientist extraordinaire, has a puzzle she cannot solve. The pieces consist of unspoken words, baleful gazes, and quiet sighs when her lover thinks she’s asleep.

If she were to chart a graph of Bo’s happiness from the time they killed Massimo to the time they revived Kenzi, she thinks it would be a positive yield curve. Well, maybe not when Bo found out she broke her leg in their save “The Kenz” mission, and the doctor marks a point on the x-axis and writes “Lauren breaks leg.”

Not that it ended badly – they did get Kenzi back after all, Lauren muses. Plus, the only person happier than she was when her leg healed was the succubus. Now this is definitely an exponential curve, the doctor smirks as she jots down “walk”, “run”, “coitus”, “test for bendiness”, followed by “position X”.

Still, that was months ago. There’s something different about Bo, but she doesn’t know what – yet.

A staunch believer that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, she’s often asked the succubus what’s bothering her. But Bo refused to answer the riddle, shaking her head and planting a warm kiss on the doctor’s lips instead, and Lauren’s never had a consolation prize this sweet.

She then tried the elimination method, listing all the points in her contradictorily neat doctor’s penmanship. The first person who noticed this quirk happens to be the first thing listed, when Kenzi sees her own name on the notepad.

“Y’know, I’ve been fae, turned back to human, been buried – figuratively, been to Valhalla, and I still can’t get over your quirks,” Kenzi said.

The girl’s toned down her snark after her trip to the underworld, even deigning to play fetch when the doctor was healing her leg in the clubhouse. Still, that counted as a tease of Lauren being weird, and the doctor knew Kenzi was fine. So she crossed off the girl’s name in a firm, straight, line.

Could Bo be depressed? Grabbing her old psychology textbooks, she flipped through them while asking Bo about possible symptoms. But after she said a tongue twisting psychology term, she looked up to find Bo staring at her face. The succubus placed a pair of thick-framed glasses on Lauren’s nose, and to this day, she still can’t relive the memory without shifting in her seat and clearing her throat. Suffice to say, she learned that playing psychiatrist can lead to dehydration, and it isn’t always because of the talking.…

…which changed after their trip to Valhalla. Communication may have been scarce in the early stages of their relationship, especially when Bo was mad at her, but they still talked about work. When she was with Nadia, when Kenzi was kidnapped by the kitsune, and even when she joined the Dark, Bo still sought her help on difficult cases, and they served as many an ice-breaker.

This time, though, it’s different. The succubus goes overboard on talking about other things, and changes the topic quickly whenever they touch on Bo’s detective work. What’s stranger is that the rest of the gang, including Vex, doesn’t tell her about cases anymore.

Not even after Bo walked in the door last night, her shirt half torn, blood spattered everywhere, and one of the eyes swollen and shut.    

“Bo!” Lauren grabbed her first aid kit and rushed to help the succubus. “What happened?”

“It’s okay, doctor,” Bo says, wincing as Lauren half carried her to the couch. “It’s nothing, really – you should have seen the other fae.”

“Bo,” Lauren chided. She gently patted the succubus with a wet cloth, relief flooding through her as she finds out how little of the spilt blood belongs to her lover. “What were you doing? Where are the others?”

“Dyson copped it pretty bad too – I had to leave Tamsin with Kenzi because…y’know.” Bo coughed.

“You should have called me,” Lauren murmured as she checks her lover’s wounds. “I could have been there. What fae was it?”

“Don’t worry – it’s taken care of,” Bo said. And that was that.

And so Lauren Lewis has a puzzle she cannot solve. Initially, she took it as a challenge, and her curious nature welcomed it – until she had a bloody succubus returning home, spitting blood into rags. Now it just infuriates her, because her lover’s having nightmares on top of everything, and her mind runs overdrive on the possibilities – none of them good.

The ‘ding’ of the elevator breaks her out of her reverie, and the doctor storms into The Morrigan’s office – after tucking away her adult charts and graphs.

She demands to know if Evony’s issued a law to keep her out of investigative cases, and the head of the Dark Fae simply dumps a big stack of files on the desk.

“Under other circumstances, I’d do that to toy with you, Dr. Lewis,” The Morrigan says, her face devoid of her usual smirk. “But trust me – this definitely hurts me more than it does you.”

“But why? Did someone give an order that I can’t help?”

The Morrigan rubs her temples, waves a “never you mind” with her hand, and concentrates on the files.

Lauren heads back to her laboratory, the clickety-clack of her heels a little louder than usual. She’s certain that Bo has a hand in this, and resolves to speak to the succubus tonight. Surely Bo knows that she can focus on several puzzles simultaneously, she fumes.

Plus, it’s high time that her lover told her what’s going on.

Night approaches and she’s making Bo’s favorite dinner at the clubhouse. She’s even prepared a secret weapon (under her shirt), aimed to hit Bo’s weakest spot, in case the succubus doesn’t yield. Feeling a bit gleeful about the soon-to-be-solved riddle, she dances to a tune in her head as she wields her spatula.

“Someone sure is cheerful.”

She jumps a little at the snuggle attack, but when a hand sneaks its way into her frying pan, she smacks it away with reflexive speed and precision – a leftover trait from her military training.

“Hey, I just wanna taste what made my chef so absorbed that she couldn’t hear the door open,” Bo protests.

“It was masked by the sizzling sound.” Lauren rolls her eyes, but relents and turns around to pop a piece of food into the succubus’s mouth.

“Yummy,” Bo chews and nips the doctor’s fingertips. “When do we get to dessert?”

“You’re in a good mood today,” Lauren says. She should really get the food out of the pan, but she indulges herself in a rare event, wanting to savor the moment.

“I’m always in a good mood, doctor. Does this mean we can skip this?” The succubus’s deft hand reaches for the burner and switches off the stove, her other hand trails along Lauren’s spine, making its way towards the doctor’s –

“Nice try, Bo. You need nutrition to heal, and we shouldn’t waste food.” She slips away from Bo’s arms and takes a deep breath. Much as she wants to, she’ll never get to the bottom of the problem if they fall into the habit of charting their exponential curves in bed.

A few minutes later, Lauren finds herself forking food into her mouth mechanically, her focus on her lover across the table. From the way the succubus’s demolishing her meal despite her earlier protest, Lauren knows that Bo will regain full function of her arm by tomorrow morning.

Her stomach flutters a little when she thinks about how the succubus could have healed so quickly, and she pushes away that thought, reminding herself that they’ve covered this. Plus, having a fully healed Bo relieves her of dishwashing duty, and that’s always a plus.

“So, now that the dishes are done, is it time to move on to the main meal?” The succubus joins – or almost straddles – her on the couch.  

“Not yet.” The doctor pushes Bo away gently and kisses her hand as a placeholder gesture. _No time like the present._ “Bo, what is it that you’re not telling me about your cases?”

The fingers that were drawing circles at the back of her hand halt.  

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Lauren coaxes. “Is there something I should know?”

The fingers withdraw. “No, Lauren – everything’s under control. You don’t need to worry.”

“But I do – look at what happened last night. I could have been there to help.”

_“No.”_

The vehemence surprises Lauren, and her heart skips a beat.  

“You couldn’t, Lauren. God I wish you wouldn’t –”

“Wouldn’t what?” This is far more serious than she anticipated.

“Wouldn’t interfere. Just leave it to us, okay?”

“To _us_? You mean to the gang or to the fae?” Bo’s the last person she expects to talk like this, and she grabs the succubus’s arm to stop her from leaving. “Bo, what the hell’s going on?”

“Nothing! I just…”

She keeps her stare at Bo, watching the succubus debating whether to finish her sentence. The look on Bo’s face reminds her of a cornered animal, and while she knows nothing good is going to come out of this, she braces herself and puts the succubus out of her misery.

“Say it, Bo. You just what?”

“I just can’t do this anymore.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lauren Lewis, MD, PhD, scientist extraordinaire, is in a vacuum – nothing exists beyond the sound of her heart pounding like the drums of war. That extra supply of blood and oxygen should make her brain work faster, but she feels like someone just snipped off a batch of her neurons.

After closing her eyes for what feels like a lifetime, she refocuses on the succubus.

"And what would  _this_  be?" The fae are no strangers to this tone, but only the doctor's assistants know what's to come. It's the one they hear when they mess up the data on an important experiment, or break one of her ridiculously expensive laboratory equipment.

"What?" Bo replies, her sullen manner indicating that she  _does_  know.

"You just can't do  _what_  anymore, Bo?"

"This. That. All this. Everything!" The succubus emphasizes her point with a sweeping gesture.

 _Deep breaths, Lauren._ "I take it that it includes us?"

She gets nothing, not even Bo's expression, as the succubus rubs her hands on her face.

"Bo." She's said this name countless times over the years. She's used it to beg, to cajole, to encourage, to comfort, to warn, in despair, in anger, in the throes of passion, and in life and death situations.

But she's never said it this way, and when the succubus's hands halt, she knows that Bo knows it too.

"Does your grand sweeping statement and gesture of  _everything_  include us?"

A few minutes later, Lauren Lewis, MD, PhD, ex-lover of succubus extraordinaire, is in the clubhouse's bedroom. It's no wonder she couldn't solve this fucking puzzle, she fumes as she throws her things into a box. It isn't Bo's health, some fae, or a dark spell. Turns out that the missing piece is herself.

Gathering her things, she heads to the couch where the succubus is sitting and looking ahead, still as a gargoyle.

"I can't do this anymore too, Bo. If we can't sort…if you can't stick it out and work it out together, this is it."

The only response she gets is an audible gulp from Bo as the succubus stares stubbornly at nothing.

"Not enough." There's no need for even a goodbye, it seems, as she walks through the door.

xxx

Lauren Lewis, MD, PhD, newly single scientist extraordinaire, has a lot of unwanted attention.

It consists of angry texts from a certain fae's best friend, glares from overworked laboratory assistants, curious stares from a valkyrie and a mesmer, inappropriate propositions from The Morrigan, and a stalker that looks suspiciously like her ex-lover.

Driven by a special brand of fury that comes from being scorned, she tackles these problems as easily as she handles her experiments. Delete irate texts and ignore angry phone calls, send disgruntled assistants home, barricade her laboratory from  _persofae non gratae_ , eat the pizza and bring the beer home – alone.

The stalker, however, is an outlier. The shadow attaches to her as soon as she steps outside of her building, and it doesn't even try to be discreet. It appears to come with its own set of footwear, and each night, she walks home to the sound of four shoes hitting the pavement.

She almost tells Bo to leave her alone, but she has a feeling that the succubus will just stare ahead like the last time. On occasion, she'd stop in the middle of a road, or walk into a store. The boots stay where they are, resuming their journey when she does, and this fuels her frustration further.

Sometimes, when she's in a better mood, she wonders if they can organize the footsteps into some kind of tap dancing pattern, but her musing quickly dissipates when she remembers that they could barely organize a date, much less a 'heel' song. Other times, having channeled her anger into the productivity of three people, she's too tired to bother.

So she goes about her days with two shadows, until one night, when another shows up.

Her ears pick up a third set of feet – this pair a tad heavier – walking at a steady pace that matches hers and Bo's. She doesn't stop, but slows down and looks at the wall to check if it's out for money, for blood, or just for a walk. In a few more steps, the shadow, with its seemingly monstrous-length legs, catches up to Bo, and the doctor sneaks a scalpel from her bag's side compartment, which she sewed on just for occasions like these.

She turns around as soon as its arm reaches out to grab the succubus.

_Oh Albert fucking Einstein._

The doctor exhales and feels the adrenaline leave her body like air from a punctured balloon. It's the one fae in their so-called group who hasn't given her any attention, wanted or unwanted, when she became single. Rolling her eyes, she places her scalpel back into her bag.

_Probably out for a rendezvous._

Not that she cares, she reminds herself and resumes her walk with a quicker pace. As she goes around the corner, the last thing that reaches her ears is some sort of scuffle between the two fae behind her.

xxx

"So."

Lauren sighs and looks up from her microscope. She thanks the gods once more for giving her calm and steady nerves. From the way Bo, Kenzi, and now, The Morrigan, walk in on her, she would have lost an eye to a microscope long ago if she were easily jolted.

And she'd have no eyes to roll at whatever The Morrigan is up to this time, or to watch that she doesn't tamper with anything in her laboratory.

"What do you need, Evony?"

"My, my, aren't you curt today," The Morrigan taunts, trailing a finger across the lab bench. "Look at you, all crossed arms and business-like. Speaking of which, did you perhaps forget who's putting you in business?"

Partly to placate the Dark Fae leader so that she can get it over with, and partly because her boss is right, she apologizes: "I'm sorry. There's a lot to do and I haven't been getting enough sleep."

Especially after she gained a third shadow last night.

"I'll bet," the fae responds in a half flirty tone, and Lauren wonders if Evony's out of the loop for once.

"That's not what I mea –" She's surprised into silence by a finger on her lips when the fae steps in front of her swiftly.

"I know exactly what you mean, Dr. Lewis," Evony coos. "The way you two appear on the gossip column, not even the underfae will miss the news of our world's golden couple breaking up."

"Oh it's  _just_  a figure of speech, Lauren," she continues when the doctor looks indignant, and she removes her finger. "Don't be so literal. But that's not what I want to talk about today."

"What  _do_  you want to talk about then?" Keeping her frown, Lauren wipes her lips and wishes that her boss would take a step back as well.

"Us."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh you heard me,  _doctor_. Now that you're no longer with the succubus, how 'bout giving me a chance?"

"What?"

"You really should sleep more, Lauren – I think the lack of rest is starting to impair your hearing," The Morrigan teases. "And I know just the way – or many, many ways – to help you with that."

There's that wayward finger again, trailing up her arm this time. While her mind races to come up with a more polite response than "hell no", it finds its way down her shirt, along her buttons, all the way to –

"No!"

The Morrigan doesn't withdraw her finger from Lauren's hand, and raises an eyebrow instead –  _overreact much?_

"Um, I mean, no. No, thank you."

"And why not?"

_It feels wrong._

"It doesn't have to mean anything, doctor."

"I can't."

"Oh, please," The Morrigan finally steps away from her, sensing an impending failure. "You do know that the wolf's probably in her pants right now, while we're standing here wasting time, right?"

"I don't ca – no, I don't know that. And neither do you."

"It doesn't matter – if it doesn't happen now, it'll happen sometime." The dark fae plays with an empty test tube in a way that makes Lauren wants to smash it into smithereens. She grips the bench behind her instead.

"I mean, it's only a matter of time before she moves on to someone else." Judging by the slight lift of the corner of her lips, The Morrigan missed nothing. She drops the test tube back into the rack and continues, "Besides, didn't you already have this…arrangement when you got together eons ago?"

Well aware of Evony's knack of gathering intel and using it against others, and knowing that this dig is a last, desperate attempt, the doctor resorts to silence.

"Playing stoic, are we? Fine, fine, I'll leave you alone. But if you ever change your mind…" the dark fae picks up a pair of forceps to make her point, and Lauren looks away.

xxx

Eight hours after The Morrigan's visit, Lauren dumps her briefcase on her couch and heads to the kitchen. She splashes water on her hands and face, and wipes off the perspiration that came from her extra brisk walk today.

Disregarding the thought that she should be catching up for an unproductive day at work, the doctor pours herself a large drink and downs it in one gulp.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Water drips from her faucet reminds her of a sound that she tried her hardest to ignore tonight. Her foot steps must have awoken half the fae – or people – who lived on her route, and she makes a note to check if the heels of her boots are safe from the pounding that they took. She did succeed in concentrating on her steps and blocking any surrounding noise, but now that she's home, the question creeps into her mind.

_Was it two, four, or even six, tonight?_

She shakes her head, foolishly thinking that it'll get rid of the thought, and downs another shot of the heavy liquor.

_Was it two, two, and two, or two and four?_

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

She really needs to get that leaky faucet fixed.

" _It's only a matter of time before she moves on to someone else."_

Stop. Stop thinking about it. Stop leaking.

_Tap. Tap. T –_

She hears the sound of her glass meeting the floor before she realizes what she's done. She can't remember which hand was the culprit, but judging by the broken pieces, it doesn't matter.

_Tap._

Instead of hearing water dropping on a metal sink, this tap sounds much more like a boot halting in front of –

In less than five steps, she strides across the room and yanks the door open.

_So it was four._

She wants to laugh at herself for being pathetic, fall to the ground in relief, take a week off and cry in bed, push all her glasses to the ground, but for now, she can't help but stare at her ex, who never looked so good.

But when Bo doesn't meet her eyes, she remembers that her patience for puzzles and games has left long ago.

"What do you want?" She fires at the succubus.

Again, silence.

"Fine. Suit yourself." Leaving the door open, she heads to the kitchen.

Bo follows her into her new home and looks around the apartment, as if to search for something, and only stops when she sees Lauren sweeping broken glass into a dustpan.

The doctor retrieves another tumbler from the cabinet and pours herself another drink. No longer caring if the succubus responds, she decides that it's time to remove her filter.

"Y'know, it wasn't as if I didn't see this coming," she gestures lazily at the succubus and at herself. "Us ending up like this."

"I just thought that we'd break from bigger things." She leans on the counter and watches Bo stand awkwardly beside the door. "Like, hmm...the taboo of a fae dating a human, or light versus dark, or death – probably mine. That's when I'm head over heels and being unrealistically optimistic.

"It was going to be a grand adventure even if we ended, so you can imagine my disappointment now, because this – this is so pedestrian. You simply don't love me anymore."

"You don't know that," Bo says softly. Lauren's pleased that it at least provoked a reaction from her, even if Bo's looking at her boots.

"A few weeks ago, when you refused to tell me what was going on, I might have agreed with you. But now, now I'm sure. You don't, Bo, not enough to overcome this together, so the answer remains no. You don't love me."

Lauren walks up to her ex and holds out her glass. "I'd offer you a beer, but The Morrigan didn't bring me any of that – or pizza – today.

"But her proposition was really something else – she actually did this." Using her free hand, she takes the succubus's fingers and mimics what Evony did to her hours ago. "And all I could think about was how wrong it was, and how I might never want anyone else to touch me like this but you."

Leaning her face close to Bo's, she whispers, "And I hate myself for feeling like this. I hate that you have this hold on me. And I hate, hate,  _hate_  how being with you is all I can think about."

This time, Bo meets her eyes. Keeping her eyes on Lauren's, the succubus pries the glass away from her, finishes the drink, and discards the tumbler. For a brief second, however, she glances at the door, and Lauren catches the hesitation.

"Don't you dare," the doctor growls. "Don't you dare walk out on me like this again."

She slams the door with one hand while her lips descend on Bo's.


End file.
